Page 28 of Into the Lion's Den (Secrets of the Northland Shifters)

I bit down on my bottom lip, not sure if he was pacifying me for the sake of the evening or if he was sincere. “Then I should get to work.”

He released my wrist and I walked away, though the heat of his touch continued to burn.

* * *

REESE

Sarah stoodout like a peacock among dogs.

The twenty-seven guests who’d honored their reservations may have been wealthy businessmen with top-line fishing boats tricked out with all the latest technology, but this was a fishing weekend. They didn’t come to the dinner in tuxes. They were no more dressed up than me, and in many cases they’d opted for their best pair of jeans.

I’d expected Sarah to be self-conscious, to feel overdressed and to go back to her room to change. Instead, she not onlyownedthe dress, she owned theroom.

The lion inside of me was mesmerized by the sparkles her sequined dress cast across the walls, and her sensual allure intrigued both man and beast.

Part of me wanted to stroke her hair, then rub my jaw along hers. Another part of me had the urge to bite her neck.

And what made it worse: I wasn’t the only one captivated.

With the exception of my brothers, Sarah was getting looks from every man in the room. And it was only getting worse the longer the party went on.

I blamed Angel because he was manning the bar. He’d always been far too generous with his pours, and the guests were well into their cups by nine o’clock.

The general lack of sobriety was one of the reasons our father never allowed Melanie to attend this party, and while she usually had a fit when anyone tried to tell her what to do, this was one edict she’d always been happy to obey.

Right now she was probably gaming online, or ten chapters into her latest smutty romance book. Or at least, that’s what I hoped. One dangerous woman was all I could handle tonight.

I stood by the fireplace in close proximity to my brothers, each of us doing what we did every year, even when our father was alive—chatting up the guests and re-establishing old relationships. Those long-standing connections would have our clients renewing their reservations for next year before packing to go home.

Across the room, two men in their early fifties whom I’d known since I was a kid—Charlie Horn, a construction manager who’d moved to Minnesota from down south; and Roger Whitley, a Canadian stockbroker; both with an obnoxious degree of styling gel in their graying hair—were talking to Sarah.

Something she said made them laugh heartily. I wished I knew what she’d said. I wished I could allow myself to laugh more in her presence.

She glanced my way with her eyebrows raised. Her expression read like an SOS and said she didn’t know why they were laughing. She didn’t think anything she’d said had beenthatfunny.

I communicated my sympathies with an exaggerated shrug, fully aware that the gesture would emphasize my shoulder muscles. What could I say? I was a cat. I liked to be admired. Though female attention wasn’t something I normally had to pursue so intentionally.

Sarah looked away.

“Reese!”

Did Charlie just touch her hip?I pulled my attention away from Sarah and turned toward the sound of the voice.

“Jeff!” I slapped on a smile. “Haven’t made it over to you yet tonight. Great to see you!”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Jeff Goldberg’s eyes might have been a little glassy, but he wasn’t slurring his words yet. “Especially if this is the last one.”

“Last one?” I gave Sarah another quick glance.

Jeff took another sip of his old fashioned. “Rumor has it, you’re thinking of selling.”

“Excuse me?” Was this why some of the guests had canceled? Were they trying to get their foot in the door at some other place so as to better secure a standing reservation for future years?

“Losing your father…” Jeff said, looking mournful. “Tony was the best.The best. I’d understand it if this place holds too many painful memories for you, but…” He dug in his drink for the cherry and popped it in his mouth. “I want you and your brothers to know, the last fifteen years… They’ve been nothing but great times for me.”

“I’m not selling, Jeff.”

“You’re not?” He stopped mid-chew.

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